


Brother She Never Had

by moonflowers



Series: Daisy has all the luck [3]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Bromance, Fluff, Gen, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Voyeurism, This is seriously soppy, mild Alfred/Daisy, slight s4 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy is confused regarding her feelings for Alfred, and turns to Thomas for advice on the complicated business of love. After all, he loves Jimmy, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother She Never Had

**Author's Note:**

> Because we all seem to agree that Thomas and Daisy need more moments for their glorious bromance to blossom, and this has been lingering in my notes for about two months, and now seemed a good time to crack it out.  
> This is probably the final part of the series, though there is decidedly less voyeurism in this part than the previous two.

It took a day or two for it to hit Daisy that Alfred had actually kissed her. It’d been lovely, of course it had, and she was thrilled that he’d wanted to kiss _her._ But it had left her horribly confused, her thoughts flittering about like a trapped sparrow. She’d thought she didn’t want Alfred anymore. She thought she’d grown up, put all that behind her when he’d left Downton, and they’d settled on being friends. They got on well enough, they always had – that is when Alfred hadn’t been too busy mooning over Ivy – and she liked him a lot but… well, she didn’t know what to think anymore. It had occupied her thoughts all morning; she’d nearly burnt herself twice and been scolded by Mrs Patmore more times than she could keep track of. It ought to have been embarrassing – she was good at what she did now, and rarely made stupid mistakes anymore, but her thoughts were conflicted and all over the place, like ashes blown from the hearth, and she desperately wanted to talk to someone about it. Preferably, somebody who knew more about love than she did.  
Briefly, she considered asking Mrs Patmore. She usually turned to her when she had a problem after all, and she usually got a useful answer; though she feared this may be one of those situations where the cook would neatly avoid the question and tell her to go and check something on the stove, or fetch some ingredient or other. And if not that, then she’d say it was too soon for her to be worrying about such things, even though she’d telling her that same thing for over a decade now.

She thought on it further that evening, as she was clearing away the servants’ dinner. Mrs Hughes thanked her as she cleared her plate. Perhaps she could try asking the housekeeper, though the thought alone was horribly embarrassing, and she’d probably get the same sort of not-answer as she would from Mrs Patmore. She skipped over Miss Baxter, she didn’t know her well enough. There was always Anna; her and Mr Bates had been through hell and high water, and come out the other side more in love than ever. But for all she suspected Anna knew about love, she had the feeling she wouldn’t get the straight answers she was looking for: Anna had too kind a view of the world for that, despite all her and her husband had been through.  
It was quite late by the time Daisy finally had a moment to sit down for a quick cup of tea. She picked absently at a loose thread of her apron, before realising that she would only be making more work for herself later on if she made it worse. Looking up from where her hands were wringing the fabric, her eyes fell on the haze of smoke at the far end of the table. Thomas and Jimmy were playing cards and smirking across the table at each other, and Daisy flushed to think on all she knew about them. Unbidden, images of what she’d witnessed between the two of them lurched into her mind, all she’d seen them do and say and… wait. They loved each other, didn’t they? She’d even heard Jimmy say it with her own ears. And Mr Barrow, Thomas, had been more like an older brother to her than she’d ever realised, as worrying as that realisation might be. And if a girl couldn’t ask her brother about the ins and outs of love, then what was the point of him? She hid her smile behind her teacup, and waited.

*

Thomas was sitting at the table in the servants’ hall, stuck reading the same line in the paper over and over, and his cigarette burning to nothing in his hand. Everyone had gone up, and he was alone but for Anna, who was still clattering about in the boot room, and Bates, who was sitting patiently at the opposite end of the table to Thomas, waiting for her. They made no effort at small talk.  
He was silently willing them to leave; Jimmy had only just admitted defeat at their card game and gone up to bed, and Thomas was attempting to leave a respectable amount of time before he followed. He doubted Bates or Anna would notice or even care, but he was determined not to let himself get complacent and needlessly risk things. Eventually though, after what seemed an age, Mr and Mrs Bates bid him a weary goodnight and set off for their cottage. Good riddance. The moment they’d left, he flipped his newspaper in half and dropped it onto the table, squashing the remains of his cigarette into an ashtray and standing up to leave.

“Thomas?”

He turned sharply to see Daisy standing in the doorway to the kitchen, fidgeting and looking at him nervously. “Daisy,” he said, mildly surprised, “what are you doing up? I thought it were only me left down here.”

“I was sort of… waiting for everyone else to go,” she wrung her hands awkwardly, “there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. That is, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh?” he raised an eyebrow, eager to get upstairs but unwilling to turn her away. And he had to admit, he was curious to see what had her in such a state, “and what would that be?”

“Oh Thomas,” she sat down suddenly, and he almost automatically reprimanded her for not calling him ‘Mr Barrow’ as his station warranted, but it didn’t seem to matter so much, when it was Daisy. And it was only the two of them, anyway. “I don’t really know where to start.”

“At the beginning, I expect,” Thomas said with a sigh, sitting heavily back in his chair.

“Right then,” she bit her lip and fell into silence, staring at the scrubbed wood of the table top. Thomas subtly pulled his watch from his pocket to glance at the time. Jimmy would be practically climbing the walls waiting for him. Bless his impulsive, impatient boy…

“Thomas,” Daisy said slowly, bringing him out of his imaginings, “what’s it like? To be in love?”

Oh bloody hell. Of all the awkward things to be talking about when all he wanted to do was go up to bed, or more specifically Jimmy’s bed, Daisy had to broach the ever-changing and complicated topic of love. “I’m afraid I don’t have an awful lot of experience in that area, Daisy,” he said truthfully. Honestly, why on earth had she chosen _him_ to talk to about this, of all people?

“Maybe not, but I think you’d give me the most honest answers.”

Thomas blinked at her. Daisy wasn’t always so simple as people made her out to be, it seemed. “Fair enough. I’ll give it a try, if you think I can help.” Though Carson would probably fire him on the spot if he knew this conversation was even taking place.

“Well, it’s sort of about Alfred…” 

Good Lord. Thomas would definitely need another cigarette to get through this. “Right. The lanky idiot’s finally fallen for you, has he?”

“Don’t be unkind,” she frowned at him, “I’m asking you for help, the least you could do is try.”

“Sorry,” he said with a shrug, “but I thought you’d given up on him, after all that mess with Ivy.” He’d spent many an evening pretending to listen to Jimmy complaining about the pathetic state of things between the kitchen maids and the footmen.

“I had,” she said, “I thought we were getting on just fine as friends. But when I went to see him the other day, we got to talking about…” she stopped short, and gave him a funny look, “this and that, and he kissed me.”

Thomas tried to stop himself from visibly wincing at the thought, but wasn’t entirely successful. “Right. And why do I need to know this, exactly?”

“Because now I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel,” she said, desperation colouring her voice as she looked at him beseechingly, “I thought we were just friends, but now I think I might want more than that again, but I don’t _know,_ because how can I, and perhaps I’m just as simple as everyone used to say.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead miserably. “I thought if I could just talk to somebody about it…” she trailed off.

Thomas had always been a bit uncomfortable in the face of other people’s emotional displays, and now was no exception. “I’m sorry you’re so upset,” he said, putting a hand on Daisy’s shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, “but I really don’t know what to tell you. Like I said, I don’t know much when it comes to love.” And what he did know was probably not suitable to be talking about with Daisy. If Hughes or Carson got wind of him talking about his dalliances her, he’d be out before he could say ‘Oscar Wilde.’

She frowned hard, before lifting her head to look him in the eye. “But you love Jimmy though, don’t you? Very much.”

Thomas froze, hand tense on Daisy’s shoulder as he wondered how the hell she’d figured it out. Had they not been careful enough? Had someone said something? He told himself not to panic, and decided to fall back on what had proven his best defence in several difficult situations in the past: denial. “What,” he said, jaw clenched, “makes you say that?”

She faltered, cringing away from him a little, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything, I just – “

“Has someone been saying things to you that they shouldn’t be, Daisy?” he said softly. Though he didn’t know who would have said anything; if Miss O’Brien were still at Downton he would have suspected her, but if anyone else had guessed, they surely would have kept it under their hat – there would be little to gain from it. And it wasn’t something people talked about without good reason.

“N-no. No one’s said anything, I promise you.”

Thomas started running through everything he knew about Daisy, searching for something he could use to keep her quiet. He came up with nothing though – she was one of the most infuriatingly honest people he’d ever met, along with Anna. And, if he was honest with himself, he doubted she’d be the type to respond to blackmail anyway. “Are you very, very sure about that, Daisy?” he said in a low, and hopefully vaguely threatening voice.

“Yes Thomas, very sure. And even if they had, it wouldn’t matter because…” she looked up at him, wide eyed and nervy, but apparently determined to carry on, “well, I saw you once,” she lowered her voice to a dramatic stage whisper, _“kissing.”_

Thomas almost laughed at how juvenile it sounded, and only the potential seriousness of the situation stopped him. “Right,” he said tightly, clenching his hands, “and are you going to tell anyone what you saw? Because I really wouldn’t advise it.”

She blinked at him, confused and apparently oblivious to his threat, “No. Why would I want to do that?”

“You mean you wouldn’t – “ he cut himself off. “Never mind.” Apparently he was correct in his assumptions when it came to Daisy and blackmail.

“Besides, it’s obvious, once you look for it,” she said with a playful smile that Thomas hadn’t seen on her face in years. She seemed so much older, all of a sudden. “You always keep half an eye on each other, when you think there’s no one looking.” She looked far too pleased with herself for his liking. Maybe he and Jimmy would have to take more care around the breakfast table. 

“Right,” he said again. It wasn’t like him to be so stuck for words, and the fact that it had been Daisy to leave him so just threw him off even more. 

“But… there’s something else you should know.”

Oh fantastic. What fresh hell would she unleash on him next? “And what’s that?”

She bit her lip. “You’ll have to promise you won’t be angry.”

He kept his face carefully blank. “We’ll see.”

“I sort of lied before. Alfred… told me something.” Oh bloody hell, what had the lanky prick been saying about him now? “He didn’t tell me much,” she said quickly after seeing the look on his face, “though I don’t think he would have said anything at all if I hadn’t mentioned it first – he were terribly embarrassed. I only asked him because I wanted to make sure I weren’t going mad,” she attempted a smile. “And it weren’t nothing… untoward.” Thomas inwardly cringed. “Just how he knew you loved Jimmy a long time ago. Almost since the first time you saw him, he said. He asked me if I remembered those days before the cricket match, when you were going to leave. He said it were because you loved Jimmy. That you had to go.”

“Well he’s not wrong there,” Thomas drawled, though his tone seemed lost on her.

“You must love him very much,” she said quietly, “to wait for him all that time.” 

Oh. He wanted to be angry with her. He felt his old and much more bitter self clawing its way to the surface; wanting to hurt and lash out, to take down someone else before they took down him. Survival of the fittest, and all that. But he’d changed, whether he liked it or not, and he couldn’t bring himself to be angry, not at Daisy, especially when it wasn’t really her fault. It irritated him that she’d been prying into his affairs, but if he and Jimmy had been more careful in the first place… there was no sense dwelling on it now. Instead, he found words falling from his mouth before he could do much to stop them. It was as though they’d been lying in wait, until the time was right for him to say them to her. 

“I’ve always said it’s harder for people… people like me, to find love. But perhaps I’m wrong, in some cases at least. I think on all the trouble you’ve had – I led you on for a time, I know that and I’m sorry for it. And then there was poor William, and all this business with Alfred. You’ve had almost a as hard a time of it as I have,” he smiled ruefully. “Almost, mind. Falling in love doesn’t mean a prison sentence, for you. What can I say? Alfred was a total idiot who couldn’t see what was right in front of him. And Ivy didn’t help, o’ course. Nor Jimmy, the stupid boy,” Thomas rolled his eyes and couldn’t quite hide his smile. “But it’s all said and done now, and there’s nowt we can do about it.” He shrugged off thoughts of the past, and sat back in his chair. “Now. Let’s get this straight. You love Alfred, Daisy. Or at least I believe you do; you always got the same dopey look on your face when you looked at him, just as William used to when he looked at you.”

“You look at Jimmy like that.” Oh. He didn’t know what to say in reply to that. But luckily she saved him the bother of coming up with something by standing. “I think you might be right. I’ll think hard on it, and see him again as soon as I can, just to make sure.” She smiled as he stood up to go to bed as well. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome Daisy. I-I hope it was _some_ help, anyway.”

“It was.” 

“And this conversation doesn’t leave this room, understand?”

“I understand.” She hesitated for a moment, before wrapping her arms around him in a loose hug, her head tucked under his chin. It was awkward as heck, but somehow still lovely. He let himself relax, and put his arms around her in return. He’d forgotten what it was like, to hug a girl. There’d only ever been his mother and his sisters anyway really, but somehow this small gesture from Daisy was better than any half-remembered embrace from childhood. With one last squeeze, she pulled away. “Goodnight Thomas,” she said with a tired smile before scurrying away up the stairs.

“Goodnight.”

He watched her leave, but still waited a minute or so before going upstairs himself. Though she essentially knew he and Jimmy were together, he doubted she’d thought of the delicacies of their relationship, and he wasn’t about to give her cause to dwell on it further. The fact that he would be going to Jimmy’s room and not his own probably hadn’t even crossed her mind. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he shut off the last few lamps and made his way upstairs. There was no sense in forcing himself to sit still in an empty room when all he wanted to do was pull Jimmy to him and kiss every inch of him he could reach.

As he’d predicted, Jimmy had got himself all worked up waiting for Thomas to come up to him. He eased open Jimmy’s door to find him actually pacing up and down. “You ruddy fusspot.”

“Where the bloody hell’ve you been?” Jimmy hissed as soon as Thomas had shut the door behind him. 

“Never you mind,” Thomas said with amusement, gathering his anxious lover close to him and kissing his forehead, “but I was talking with Daisy, if you must know.”

Jimmy snorted, and pulled back a little to look at Thomas in disbelief, “And that were more interesting than being with me? Like heck.”

“It had its moments.” Weren’t that the truth.

“If you say so,” said Jimmy, tugging at Thomas’ jacket, “you know I hate waiting for you to come up.”

“I’ve noticed it, yes,” Thomas said, saving Jimmy the trouble and shrugging off his jacket himself.

“Kiss me.” Thomas just stared at him, eyebrow raised, until Jimmy got the hint and sighed, “ugh, please.”

Thomas gave in, and kissed him. It never got tiresome, hearing Jimmy say such things; especially after waiting so long to hear him say them. He was feeling unbearably sentimental, and it was all Daisy’s fault, “I’m bloody lucky to have you, you know.”

Jimmy had the audacity to roll his eyes, “I know.”

Thomas looked at him, unimpressed, before saying quietly, “I mean it.”

“You’re awfully soppy tonight,” Jimmy was clearly going for bravado, but the catch in his voice and the way his eyes shifted around the room betrayed him.

To save his poor boy any further embarrassment, Thomas didn’t answer, but kissed him again, hoping that the soft meeting of their lips would somehow remind Jimmy just how wonderful he was, how very necessary he was to Thomas’ mere existence. Jimmy wasn’t a mind reader, though Lord knows it might have been useful in the past, and he needed every clue Thomas could give him.  
He must have got his message across in some form, because minutes later he was on his back on top of the bedcovers, Jimmy kissing him as though he could breathe the very air from Thomas’ lungs. 

“I do love you, you know,” Jimmy mumbled when he paused, still not meeting Thomas’ eyes, “and I’m sorry that it takes something like this,” Thomas felt him gesture vaguely to their current position, “to make me brave enough to say it.”

“I know,” Thomas said truthfully, because honestly, sometimes Jimmy wasn’t as bloody mysterious as he liked to think he was, “but thank you for saying it all the same.” It was only the second time Jimmy had ever expressed the sentiment, and Thomas hoped ardently to hear it another thousand thousand times before his last breath left his body. Perhaps it was a good think Jimmy couldn’t hear his thoughts; the intensity of them would probably scare him away for good, flighty soul that he was. “Did you know,” he began, because he was in a teasing mood and Jimmy was an absolute joy to tease, “that our own dear Daisy saw us kiss once?”

Jimmy froze, stopping his gentle kissing along Thomas’ jaw to blink at him in disbelief. “You what?” 

“You heard,” he said, some of his smile seeping into his voice, “poor, innocent little Daisy, exposed to our unholy vices.”

Jimmy laughed at that, and Thomas could feel his chest shaking with amusement pressed as it was against his own. “Daisy is neither poor nor little,” he said with a snort, “that girl can take care of herself. She’s quite an arm on her you know; threatened to beat me last week, when she caught me with my finger in the cake mix.”

“She was right to do so. Who knows where your fingers have been.”

Jimmy flushed at that, and Thomas worried for a minute that he’d unwittingly crossed the hazy border into things Jimmy wasn’t quite comfortable with yet. But he just sighed and settled his head on Thomas’ shoulder. “Aren’t you worried at all? She could tell somebody.” It was clear from his voice he too was thinking about their first, less than successful encounter.

“She won’t,” Thomas said with utter certainty; she’d told him as much herself, and he believed her.

Jimmy grunted. “I don’t see how you can be so sure about it, but alright.”

“I’m sure. I reckon I might trust that girl with my life,” he said, surprised at the depth of his own revelation as he ran his fingers through Jimmy’s hair, “so don’t go worrying your pretty head about it.” Jimmy scowled at him and pointedly removed Thomas’ hand from his head. “Besides,” he spoke quietly, lips brushing Jimmy’s ear and very much hoping what he was about to say wasn’t a step too far, “perhaps she liked it.” He felt Jimmy tense on top of him, “who knows what else she saw.”

*

Daisy tried her hardest not to wake Ivy as she got undressed and into bed. In her experience, the other girl slept like a log, so she was probably safe. She was still careful anyway; she didn’t really fancy answering awkward questions about why she’d stayed up so late. The springs creaked as she climbed under the covers, and Ivy snuffled and mumbled something, but remained asleep. Good. Or not, because that left Daisy wide awake, and alone with her thoughts.   
It was odd, to think of Thomas being in love. Of course, she’d fancied herself a little bit in love with him once, but that seemed silly and girlish now, and ever so long ago. For years he’d seemed mainly cold and distant; he did his job to a high standard, with the odd snide comment but not much real complaint. Though now she thought on it, those few weeks not long after Jimmy arrived he’d been a bit off. But she could take a fairly good guess as to why that was now, after what Alfred had suggested and Thomas had confided. If Thomas could find love, with all his faults, then surely she could. Daisy was not as simple as she’d once thought herself. But one thing was simple enough – if she could be as happy as Thomas and Jimmy apparently were, then she’d be pleased. Perhaps she’d write to Alfred tomorrow, if she had the time.


End file.
